


only

by dansunedisco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, End of Days, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of days. Cora and Lydia are the only ones left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	only

They knew it was coming, the snow.

Lydia had found an old, dusty farmer’s almanac in one of the houses they’d picked apart months ago, tucked on a shelf between  _Jane Eyre_ and an encyclopedia. She had bounced up and down, laughing like she had found the last one on Earth. Honestly, for all they knew, it could have been. 

Cora had been skeptical of the find. Dates were, in her opinion, useless to track when it didn’t matter what day of the week it was anymore. Lydia, however, was diligent with the timekeeping, doggedly so. In fact, she had almost driven them into a ditch when she’d yanked the wheel from under Cora’s hands, trying to pull their beat-up hybrid into a Wal-Mart parking lot after Cora had (initially) refused. Inside, she had swiped a case of watches, plucked the batteries out of all but one, and folded everything else into a tiny Ziploc bag for safekeeping. Lydia wore the one on her wrist now. It was a relic of days long past—when fashion trumped functionality—white leather strap and tiny pink rhinestones inlayed into the face. It was ugly. Cora often said so. Lydia never listened, only insisted it matched her End of Days style. 

They had found each other in August, two months into the plague that had changed everything. It was December now. They barely got along, tolerance worn thin by stress and death and the unknown, but they were all they had these days. The worst of it was that Lydia had been predicting snow like a deranged weatherman for days, motioning to the rolling clouds in the distance, rattling off about wind speed and atmospheric pressure. She made them stop several times to collect data, to scribble notes in the margins of the almanac. Lydia always explained her findings afterwards, good or bad or inconclusive. Cora listened, sometimes, but truthfully? She didn’t care about the whens or the whys. She just wanted to survive.

-

“We should’ve gone south,” Lydia snapped. 

“With what gas, Lydia?” Cora replied. They were sitting together, wrapped in blankets and sweaters, a small fire stoked in the one house they’d found with a working pit. The cold snap had come like Lydia had predicted, the snow following soon after, but they had nowhere to go but empty houses that felt like tombs. “We both agreed it was better to stay here,” she said, too frustrated to keep her tone gentle. She was tired of shouldering all the blame.

After a long moment, Lydia sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “I’m tired,” she said, voice wobbly. Then, more firmly, “I hate you.”

Cora tugged her into a fierce hug, Lydia’s back to her front. She slid her hands around to cross over Lydia’s flat stomach, grunting softly when Lydia’s hands gripped her forearms to bruise. They did this, sometimes, when it was either implode or explode, hanging on tight to each other because it was better to be together and angry than alone.  _You don’t hate me_ , she wanted to say.  _You don’t hate me at all._ “Go to sleep,” she said instead. “You can bitch at me in the morning.”


End file.
